Problems in Paradise
by Treol
Summary: .Gokusen 3//Post-Grad. Kazama Ren learns that stopping someone from boarding a plane isn’t always enough.


Name: Problems in Paradise  
Genre: General  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, etc.  
Summary: Kazama Ren learns that stopping someone from boarding a plane isn't always enough.

Someday, I'd like to write stories with sense. Please review~

Updated with my sincerest apologies, and embarrassment.

* * *

Kazama Ren was annoyed.

Anyone glanced at the swarthy-haired male's face would see the emotion radiating off him in waves – and would probably run as fast as humanly possible in the opposite direction.

But it wasn't anything new... not relatively new, anyway.

Rikiya Ichimura had been around his friend long enough to know that lately, the pulses of 'I want to disembowel you and don't need a good reason to do so' were becoming as associated with Ren as his highlights.

No one said anything.

No one was insane enough to attempt it... And he was pretty sure that Kura didn't even notice.

Really, that guy needed to hang around more.

But judging from Ren's current disposition (which had been consistent since the moment they started lunch, and probably had been just as bad before they met up), Ichi worried about his own frame of mind for staying around too long.

Hell, if anyone should have said anything, he thought it should've been Yamato, especially since they shared a room now. Come to think of it, Yamato was normally the reason Ren was ever that mad. From their first year of high school, when the brunette had been scouted as a potential threat to their third year when Yamato made it obvious that he planned to rule Akadou, there only seemed to be one person capable of enticing that vicious a reaction out of the normally carefree teen.

Come to think of it – again – said mood had started a few weeks ago, around the time Yamato decided that he wouldn't be joining his mother in Fukuoka.

All at once, warning signals flashed through his mind. He didn't need to suffer a slow, mental death. He had exams to think about!

Ren could gripe when he wanted to, for hours on end, with all the charm of a chipmunk on acid.

"Eh... Ren?" Absently, he wondered why he was just staring at the point of no return as it passed him by. Maybe his friend wouldn't answer his question. They were in public. The cafe didn't sell alcohol. They were both on lunch break, so that didn't leave too much time for babbling. Ichi wondered if he was building a fort of lies to make himself feel safer. "Anything bothering you lately? You seem... troubled."

An idle gaze met his, his friend's shoulders already moving to shrug. "How's Yamato?"

And watching brown eyes widen then squint, his friend doing a remarkable 'stepped in dog shit' impression, Ichimaru regretted not having written a will beforehand.

Ren didn't know how blatantly obvious he could be. That didn't matter to him at the moment. What mattered was the topic that had plagued his mind incessantly. Right on the money, it was concerned a certain tanned male with tauntingly kissable lips, soft chestnut hair, and a sinfully smooth, enticing neck that –

Ichi squawked, nearly jumping out of his seat when his friend's forehead slammed into the table. He considered pretending to be late for class. Ren simply groaned.

The problem wasn't a matter of admitting he liked Yamato.

Yes, they were both guys. Yes, they used to hate each other. Yes, they still attempted to beat the living snot out of each other almost as often as they kissed.

But for months, ever since he found himself in front of five, beautiful university girls, unable to think of anything except how cute Yamato looked in a pair of glasses beside him, he knew his feelings weren't that normal.

Barely a month after graduation and into their 'adult' lives, Ren couldn't believe how pathetically he missed his friends. True, they had each others' numbers, but they hadn't been able to meet together as a group since graduation. Hell, he'd only been able to see Honjo and that was because his dad's tofu shop was walking distance from his job. Even then, it would only be for a minute or two.

Ichimaru hadn't had an easy transition to university, Ren guessed, from the way his friend fell asleep on the phone whenever he called. Kamiya was busy juggling vocational school and his life's dream of working at a host club (albeit as a janitor). Kuraki had surpassed everyone's expectations by getting three part-time jobs, and Honjo was having difficulty with the store after his father was hospitalized once again.

It had been a heart-attack.

From that day onward, Honjo outright forbade his old man from working, and even managed to keep him away from the store for a fortnight. In that time, the gang tried to help as frequently as possible, but didn't manage as much as they would've liked, though Yamato took a part-time job at the shop without pay.

Yet, Akadou's former leaders seemed to have developed the uncanny ability to miss each other.

Whenever Ren came around, Honjo or his mother would be the only one at the store. He didn't think he minded, too much. After all, working all day at the dry docks wasn't easy nor did it leave him with enough strength to care.

However, when Kamiya called one night, a _gouken_ planned to celebrate their graduation (blatantly overlooking the fact that it was a little belated), he damn near jumped at the chance. How that guy kept getting dates but still whined for hours about being single, Ren did not know.

It was supposed to be just like old times.

Girls hate pushy guys.

Smile like you aren't imagining what they would look like naked.

Intelligent conversation – green jokes take a hike.

No fighting.

And, finally, under no circumstances will anyone mention (graduating from) Akadou High School.

Ren discovered 'Don't stare at your best male friend like a sad, kicked puppy for the entire night' should've also been one of the dating rules of thumb. Mika-chan (or was it Miyaki-chan?) didn't particularly appreciate it, and Yamato kept elbowing him in the gut.

But he couldn't help it.

He was almost delirious with pleasure when he saw the group together again.

And it only took five minutes for him to realize that looking away from the copper-haired teen in a deceivingly dorky jacket and hopelessly askew glasses was painful.

Oh yeah, epiphanies hurt... almost as badly as Yamato's under-the-table punch when he ordered Ren to stop acting like a retard, it was freaking him out, in a deadly hiss...

The problem wasn't getting Yamato to admit he felt the same.

That had been surprisingly easy. It just took a bathtub, a dozen ice cubes, a hair dryer and the ability to run at about the speed of light.

Ren remembered that fondly, though he swore off bubbles baths for the rest of his life.

He was also certain that Kamiya's mother would never allow them to stay over at her house again.

The problem wasn't getting Yamato to date him.

He had, after all, saved the shorter teen from flying to Fukuoka. Yamato owed him one, and even let Ren give him a matching black-eye to seal their promise to date.

The problem definitely wasn't kissing Yamato.

He could readily to that for hours, and probably would, if oxygen wasn't some sort of bizarre requirement. Yamato's slender, well-toned form flat against the wall, trembling softly as feeble little sounds that were good enough to be _illegal_ escaped his throat, hands tangled in hair, lips bruised and so damn wet – drawing up the memory, Ren decided that breathing was overrated anyway.

No, what really bothered him – and had bothered him for weeks on end – was what they did after kissing.

Because after kissing, Yamato would lead him by the hand to the room they shared, leaving Ren to think about how Kaoruko still had two hours of work.

Soft lips would caress his, skilled fingers would trail down his chest, sending explosions through his mind, which would soon turn off as he favoured thinking with his other head. He would see that teasing smirk, a familiar triumphant gleam in his lover's eyes, and Yamato would back away, peeling off his shirt, stripping down to his boxers, his clothes falling carelessly to the floor.

Then he'd turn on his heel, take a few quick strides and collapse on the mattress on the other side of the room. "Night."

"Uh... My bed's over there," Ren had commented the first time it had happened, pointing incredulously in the opposite direction.

"Mhmm..."

"It's a single bed."

"Yeah."

"It's... Small?"

"G'night, Ren."

Following that night, he tried getting into Yamato's bed, only to have the shorter male push him off the mattress, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. That didn't go too well.

Ren started yelling.

Yamato started yelling.

Ren started kicking.

Yamato had a surprisingly powerful right hook.

Now the sliding door to their room had a gaping hole in it. Kaoroku asked if there was any point in repairing it, gauging the chances of it getting damaged again. Ren still hadn't properly answered her.

It had gone on that way ever since he'd asked Yamato to move in with them.

Of course, there were some variations.

The night before a job interview, Yamato hadn't bothered removing his shirt, simply pacing the room until he collapsed on his bed for much needed rest. Ren had nodded off some time ago.

Sometimes, Yamato forwent the good night kiss and threw himself into bed, falling asleep in under five minutes. Actually that was every Monday and Thursday, when he had night classes. Ren didn't like those classes.

Even worse, Yamato occasionally went over to his bed – in the ungodly hours of the morning, to poke him in the ribs roughly and tell him to stop snoring.

It didn't help matters that Yamato walked around the house in a towel after bathing every morning.

Sometimes he ate breakfast like that.

At least it wasn't a face towel.

"Ren...?"

Why was he so cruel!?

He knew Yamato liked it. He could fucking feel it!

"You don't look so good."

And he was pretty damn sure that Yamato could feel _it_, as well.

Shit, he really wanted Yamato to feel it.

"Ren?"

When his friend replied with something torn between a growl and hum, Ichimaru considered getting professional help for the other male. The table must've been harder than it looked.

"No... Fine." Sensible words sounded foreign, coming out of Ren's mouth. Ichi, despite his better judgement, decided to chalk it up to small miracles. "I'm fine, just... Frustrated lately. Work."

"Okay..." He knew a blessing when he saw one. Life did not often give second chances, so he grabbed the opportunity by the horns. "And, if you're not feeling well or if... It gets worse... Talk to Kuraki. He's good at this sort of thing."

"Oh thanks."

"You should relax more. But ah... I gotta run. Class, you know, don't wanna be la-" He choked on his own words, when Ren's fist slammed into the abused table, and the other teen sat up with a snap. The sudden attentive spark in his friend's eyes spelt all sort of things that he really didn't want to consider. The last time he saw Ren like that was when some unfortunate soul happened to comment that Kaoroku looked hot.

Poor guy pissed in his pants before Ren was through.

"That's a great idea!" The table took yet another beating as Mr. Fist crashed into it once more. If Ren broke the table, Ichimaru would refuse to help him pay the bill. But that fist suddenly had a handful of his shirt, and he was brought uncomfortably close to a Ren that was smiling too widely to be sane.

Suicidally, he realized that if Yamato saw in such a position, he would be facing a fate worse than death.

"We're going out."

"We are?"

"Now!"

"Now?"

"No, you're right... Saturday. It's so simple!" Ren exclaimed, standing with a jolt, punching towards the ceiling in triumph.

There were people looking at them now.

Scratch that, there were _more_ people looking at them now.

Ichimaru couldn't register his relief once Ren released him – probably because the other male was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Call up the guys, eh? Thanks, Ichi. See you then. Do your best!"

And watching his friend's retreating back before it disappeared out the door, a half smile, half frown on his own features, he was only distantly aware that Ren hadn't paid for his share of the meal.


End file.
